Little Lord Fauntleroy

Scalise spoke briefly, adding little of substance, saying that the people back home know him best.

It is most peculiar, and when he plays that way, the most bewitching little expression comes over his face.

In less than ten minutes, the bivouac was broken up, and our little army on the march.

A little boy of four was moved to passionate grief at the sight of a dead dog taken from a pond.

Squinty could look out, but the slats were as close together as those in a chicken coop, and the little pig could not get out.

Then there was Wee Wo,—he was a little Chinese chap, and we used to send him down the chimneys to open front doors for us.